


The Maiden In the Tower

by mrstater



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Courtly Love, F/M, Fairy Tales, Marriage Proposal, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jorah always dreamed of rescuing a fair damsel from a tower; what will he do when he meets one who thinks he's just the man for the job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maiden In the Tower

_Lady Lynesse Hightower…_  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
She turned her head, which lay pillowed on Jorah's shoulder, up toward him, and hot red flooded his face as he realized he'd actually mumbled the words aloud into her golden perfumed hair. He was tempted to shrug off her question, but her eyebrows scrunched together in a quizzical expression that made his insides buckle--as had every expression he'd seen cross her lovely features since he first laid eyes on her that morning at the start of the tourney--and he could not deny her an answer any more than he'd been able to deny her a kiss when she asked…or another…or several…or many more…or his bed…when she found her way into his chamber at the Lannisport inn.  
  
"Nothing, really. Only…I feel rather as if I've stumbled into a fairytale." He held his breath, half-expecting her to laugh at him--as he'd expected to her to laugh at him when he asked if he might wear her favor in the lists. When she did not, he held her tighter and ran his fingers through her hair, impossibly long and soft as spun silken thread. "There's one about a golden-haired princess trapped in a high tower, isn't there?"  
  
"Held captive, more like," Lynesse said, her tone unexpectedly bitter. "Until a prince found her and rescued her. "  
  
She sat up then, her full white bosom with the pert nipples, red as cherries or rubies, brushing lightly against the coarse dark hair of his chest.  
  
"Oh, sweet Ser Jorah," she implored breathlessly, eyes huge and luminous in the light of the bedside candle. "Rescue me."  
  
"Rescue you, my lady?" he echoed, feeling slow and stupid. How much had he drunk today? Or was it the after-effects of love? He pushed up on one elbow, the better to see her face in the uncertain flicker. Was she… _crying_? Cupping her cheek in one hand, he felt against the calluses of his palm that she was. "From what?"  
  
"My lord father," she said miserably through a sob. "We're to sail for Oldtown on the morrow. He is too old for these courtly revels, he says, and I know that when he goes up into the Hightower he will never come down again. And I shall have no life at all. He cares not for me, nor for what I want. I shall be as that princess in the fairytale, cut off from the world. And from you," she added, almost as an afterthought, though he could not entirely trust his senses.  
  
She clasped Jorah's hand with both of hers and pulled it from her cheek to her lips, kissing each of his fingertips in turn as she wept and begged. "Please, do not let him take me away. Ask him for my hand. Rescue your princess from her tower, my prince."  
  
Jorah hardly knew what to say…he hardly knew what _she_ said. He was very drunk. And even more dazed.  
  
"Lynesse, did you say…you want to marry me?"  
  
"Oh, yes," she said, smiling. "More than anything."  
  
Though his heart leapt, he heard himself say, "But…I am too lowborn for you. Twice your age and poor. By no means am I a prince."  
  
She silenced him by touching her fingertips to his lips. So soft and white, never having known a day's labor. Or even a moment's.  
  
"You are the hero of Pyke," she said so sweetly, "the champion of Lannisport." Her lips replaced her fingertips on his mouth. Between kisses she said, "You are no more a prince than I am a queen, it is true. But if you may crown me your Queen of Love and Beauty, then surely I may call you my lord husband?"  
  
As she spoke to him she'd straddled him, her little white hand making its way down his throat and chest to grasp his hardened cock.  
  
"Gods help me," Jorah muttered as his hands on her hips guided her down onto his length. _He could deny her nothing_. "Yes. Yes, surely…I'll ask Lord Leyton for your hand…I shall not let him take you back to the Hightower. I'll take you to my home on Bear Island and…"  
  
He did not speak it aloud for kissing her, but in his mind he heard the words:  
  
 _And make you Lady Lynesse Mormont._


End file.
